Friday Was A Bad Day
By William O. Jenkins, Mar 26, 2003
Friday, March 21st, was a bad day for me.
Each Friday after work I join with others at the foot of the Roosevelt Bridge in Stuart, Florida to demonstrate against the war. I went to work that morning ready with my sign.
As I drove over the bridge, I saw a large sign announcing a "support our troops" rally that evening. That was okay by me. I oppose the policy and the politicians who have led us to war, not the people who must fight it.
When I got to work, I checked out a website I had been told about the day before, USO Cares, which provides an opportunity to make $25 donations to fund individual "care packages" the USO sends in the donor's name to service personnel deployed overseas.
I suggested to my company's three partners (two are Republicans and all three are for the war by the way) that we all chip in and send eight care packages since there are eight of us in the company. I was gratified that they rounded it up to ten and said the company would foot the bill.
Knowing I'd have a captive audience at the demonstration after work, I also created and printed out a small flyer (see below) promoting the USO care package program to hand out to the support-the-war demonstrators, who I knew would receive it enthusiastically, and to my fellow peace activists.
Later in the morning when I checked my email, there was a message from the wife of my 20-year-old nephew letting their friends and family know that Ed had been deployed to the Iraq theater the day before. Ed is an Army combat medic with the 38th Combat Engineers Battalion, which is supporting the 101st Airborne Division.
We knew it was coming - the battalion had received its orders three weeks ago - but knowing what's coming isn't the same as it getting here. When I checked my email after lunch, Ed's wife had sent a photograph of him standing in their living room, taken just an hour before he left. He was in his desert camouflage fatigues, tall, young, proud and confident.
I wept. Not because I was afraid for him, I expect and fervently hope our armed forces will kick ass and take names with only very light casualties. I was just overcome with sadness.
A day that started off upbeat turned
into a downer. And it only got worse.
I arrived at the bridge after work (in work clothes, no provocative tee-shirt or buttons). There were fewer-than-usual peace protesters, maybe 30 or so, and what the local newspaper later reported to be in excess of 200 rallying in support of the troops. I also learned from the article that the Martin County Republicans organized the rally.
I had only printed 100 flyers, so figuring the support-the-troops folks were my best bet, I tucked my sign under my arm, obscuring the message, and started to work my way along the sidewalk on the bridge.
"Here's a great way to support the troops," I said, displaying my little flyers. "You can donate to the USO and they'll send individual care packages to soldiers overseas."
I was immediately confronted by a man who demanded to see my sign. I told him that I was against the war, but that's not why I was there, that I wanted to tell people about this USO care package program.
He demanded to know what the sign said. I told him it said "Support our troops: Impeach their boss!" but that had nothing to do with why I wanted to hand out my flyers, which I offered to him to inspect.
He refused to look at them. Instead he turned to the nearest demonstrators at the foot of the bridge and yelled that this guy wants to impeach our president and not to listen to anything he says.
I continued to work my way up the bridge through the crowd, trying to get my USO message across. He followed right behind me, yelling to drown me out. To get rid of him, I suggested that he go on before me and alert people about me before I got to them, which, by golly, he did.
The mood became venomous. I was told I'd better get out of there. I was cursed at and jostled. I was called a traitor and a parasite among other things. One elderly lady, her face screwed up with what I can only describe as hatred, jabbed at me with her little American flag on a stick to keep me away. She was so tiny and looked so determined, I couldn't help smiling a little, which only caused her to redouble her jabbing.
I continued to try to speak to individuals and explain about the USO care package program. Any time it appeared as if someone was trying to listen to what I was saying, the people nearby broke into chants of "Bush! Bush! Bush!" or "USA! USA! USA!" to drown me out.
I kept at it. I boiled down my message into telegraphic phrases: "USO. Bob Hope. Care packages to troops. Department of Defense approved." Among the older veterans, identifiable by their American Legion and VFW regalia, the magic words were Bob Hope.
"Oh, USO. Whatta ya got there?" I managed to hand out a few flyers by the time I reached the end of the crowd. Then I began to make my way back down the bridge. More of the same, but I was able to get a few more people, almost all veterans, to take flyers.
At the bottom of the bridge, a bit shaken, I crossed the street to the antiwar protesters. Some of them had seen me demonstrating with them on previous Fridays, of course, but my sign was still obscured under my arm.
All some of them knew was that I had come from the support-the-troops crowd and was trying to hand them literature. Some of those who didn't recognize me were leery at first, but they at least listened to my pitch.
Once they understood what I was talking about they were receptive. Typical reactions were "great idea" and "thanks for telling me about this" and "give me a couple more to pass on."
Of all the antiwar protesters, only three declined to take a flyer, all for the same reason. Each was a parent of a child fighting in Iraq and said they were already sending care packages.
I finished handing out my flyers and took up my station on the sidewalk, holding up my sign to the rush hour traffic. Despite the usual flip-offs and fuck-you's, I was feeling a little better.
Then I heard my name called from somewhere out on the street where cars were stopped at the light. After a moment I saw who it was. It was my boss's husband, giving me the finger through the sunroof of his Mercedes SUV.
The sun was setting and the light fading. I turned around and discovered I was the last one, antiwar or pro-war, on the street.
I tucked my sign back under my arm and walked back to my truck, with its upside down American flag decal (signifying distress) and "War Is Not The Answer," "No More Bushit" and "My Dog Never Met A Bush He Didn't Like" bumper stickers.
They were still there and untouched, but someone had vandalized my truck with spray paint. Not a lot, just enough to ruin the paint job.
I'll be back at the Roosevelt Bridge next Friday. I'm sure there'll be another support-the-troops rally, but I won't be passing out flyers. I'll be on that bridge in the middle of their rally, holding up my sign.
Of course, I don't want to offend the troop-supporting patriots of the Martin County Republicans, and I do want to fit in, so I'm thinking this time my sign should read, "Ein Volk! Ein Reich! Ein Fuhrer!"
P.S. Here's my flyer, which except for the headline I mostly cut-and-pasted from the USO website:
Want To Really Support The Troops?
Donate to "Operation USO Care Package"!
Show you care by sending needed items and personal prayers to deployed service members overseas. To find out how, visit http://www.usocares.org/ or call 1-866-USO-GIVE.
"Operation USO Care Package" (approved by the Department of Defense) enables individuals to write a personal message and financially support care packages that will be delivered to U.S. troops deployed around the world.
The care packages contain an assortment of items that the military have specifically requested, such as prepaid international calling cards, disposable cameras, toiletries, and sunscreen. They also include greetings from the American public, transcribed onto official "Operation USO Care Package" post cards by volunteers and USO staff members.
Operation USO Care Package will continue for as long as our country is at war, and is possible only throught the support of individuals, corporations and organizations.
William O. Jenkins
wojayace@adelphia.net
Port St. Lucie, Florida
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